It's Just a Task
by michellewritesfics
Summary: Dean, influenced by his anger and Moriarty, confronts the Doctor. Dean's there because he has a job to do involving a gun. Superwholock. Alternate universe. Oneshot.


"Dean! Dean, calm down," he said, trying to hide the panic and alarm in his tone. The Doctor, dressed in his usual attire - bow-tie and tweed - kept his jade eyes on the human, his hands raised up defensively. "Dean, you have to calm down. I didn't-"

"Shut up!" The other male barked, the weapon gripped firmly around his white fingers. He was gripping it too hard that the peach color of Dean's skin turned ghost white. "Doctor, you… you took Sam away from me. You took _Castiel_ away from me. I don't care about Cas, but you took… hah, you took my Sam, my _brother_ away from me!" He didn't bother to restrain his voice. All Dean wanted was to get rid of the Doctor. _Just… just pull the trigger. That's what you need to do. And it'll be all right. Everything will go okay. Everything's going to end up okay. No Doctor means no more adventures, right? Sam, Cas, and I can be together again. Team Free Will. Besides, Moriarty already paid me. I _need _to do it no matter what. _

Dean waved his arms in the air frantically. "You screwed up my life, Doctor! You took them away from me. And you know what? You can't have them. You never will." His pitch turned raspy and strained. The boiling hatred didn't cease even if the strength in his voice had. Dean - coated with a jacket, jeans, and a black shirt - laid his hostile eyes on the Doctor's scared expression. "Doctor. I won't forgive you for it."

The mental images. Dean spotting the Doctor with Sam at the dead of night. Returning from an adventure. He remembered how much Sam babbled that night. He didn't sleep too well. He was too worried about Sam and since Sam decided to be an ass and compliment the Doctor about how amazing he was, Dean couldn't just tell Sam to shut up. A new image formed and it was one with a blood-soaked Sam. Oh, god. The look of excitement and thrill on his younger brother's face. Dean thought the Time Lord and the hunter had gone to kill someone, but it just happened to be some kind of liquid Sam fell in and the Doctor had to pull him out of it. Ugh. He hated the sight of them so happy. He wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to Sam being so goddamn happy. Sam didn't smile or laugh or anything when Dean was around, so what the hell did the Doctor offer that Dean, Sam's brother, couldn't?

Memories of Sam were starting to fade and then were replaced with Castiel. Castiel was never one to show too much emotion. But when he had popped up in Dean's motel room? He was smiling. Actually smiling. The Doctor was laughing, telling him about the recent trip they had been to. Something about lizard people. And Dean didn't like it. He was jealous. Completely and utterly jealous. The Doctor and Castiel had known each other for long and Dean, at first, thought it was just two guys meeting up again and having a cup of coffee or whatever. But no. It wasn't like that. Whenever Dean needed help, the Doctor came along with him. Sometimes, Castiel wouldn't even show up. He would arrive hours later and make up an excuse about how the Time Lord needed _his_ help. What the hell?

He shook the images away, his green eyes still fixed on the Doctor. "Listen, you… you weird alien thing, you need to stop it. Stop whatever the hell you're doing, you got that? I know you're lonely as hell and you need some people to go adventuring with you, but you don't need to bring my angel and my brother with you!"

"Dean, Dean… listen to me," the Doctor gulped thickly, now trembling. He was faced with situations like this before, but nothing compared to what Dean had. He knew Dean. He'd gotten used to his tactics and little tics. The Doctor knew that the Winchester was full of emotions. Heavy emotions. And he feared that he couldn't stop him. "Dean, come on. It's not-it's not… we can handle this. Just put the gun down." Of course, he knew that Dean didn't. Instead, he witnessed the hunter step closer to him and subconsciously, the Doctor took a step back, creating the same distance. He blinked and before he knew it, the Doctor was on the ground. The flat and hard dirt smudged onto his face and messed up his clothing. Groaning, the Doctor tried to push himself up, but something stopped him. He had no strength.

Something wet stuck to him, staining the dirt under him. Looking down to locate what the dampness was, his vision was blocked by something red. Not exactly dark red, but not a vibrant red, either. More like an orange-red. And he realized it. He finally realized it. The Doctor was bleeding. He didn't hear the gunshot. He didn't see Dean pull the trigger. He didn't…

Lifting his head up to bring Dean back into his view, he saw that tears were streaming down Dean's now reddened face. "Dean, you're…" He started, his statement stopping by an involuntary wince. "Y-You're crying…"

It shocked him. Dean dropped the gun in his hand. Dropping it so quickly like it was made of fire. Like it burned him. The weapon made a dim thud as it clashed at the dirt under him. His breathing turned erratic and he brought a hand to pat at his cheek, feeling the wetness of his face. He was oblivious to it. He didn't know he was crying. _Why the hell am I crying? Ugh, dammit, Dean, you're gettin' soft._ The Winchester knew he shouldn't be crying. Why the hell was he crying? He's shot people before. But… but Dean's gotten to know the Doctor. Yes, he hated him, but hated him enough to murder him? Under James Moriarty's orders?

Dean felt his legs give in and before he could utter anything out, his legs did and he buckled to the brown-covered floor. Inches away from the bleeding Gallifreyan, he continued his silent crying. Snot ran down his nose and stayed put just before it could run down Dean's cracked lips. "Doctor? Doctor, are you…"

"It's fine, it's fine," the Doctor growled out, edging away from the other man. "I'll regenerate, that's all. Don't worry about me," he said and kept looking at Dean, giving him a reassuring smile. He wanted Dean to know that he was all right. But was he really? He felt like dying. It hurt. Dean was an excellent shot. Shot him just a few centimeters above his left heart. But it still hurt.

His regeneration cycle didn't start. No glowing yet. Maybe he could be cured if Dean dragged him to the nearest hospital? Or maybe even the TARDIS? No, no. He was too weak to move with Dean's help. It would be better to regenerate.

There was a stretch of silence. Dean had stopped crying and the Doctor didn't wince. Both had overcame their pain - Dean's emotional and the Doctor's physical - and were now just staring at each other. Keeping each other company.

The Doctor still hadn't entered his regeneration. And he knew he should've, but he wasn't. He was still lying there. Bleeding. What the hell was going on? The Time Lord's vision was getting obscured, blackness entering from the corners of his eyes. Soon, only darkness engulfed his vision. Yet, he still had his eyes open. And there was nothing but darkness. It was like he had turned blind in an instant. The Doctor, mumbling in hopes to communicate with a still heartbroken Dean, closed his eyes and rested his head on the dirt, the brown specks attaching to his skin.

He heard shuffling. He figured it was Dean getting closer to him. "Dean, it's okay… I'll just regenerate, I swear." Again, trying to give some comfort to the Winchester, the Doctor widened his forced smile. "It's okay."

But it wasn't Dean trying to get close and possibly giving him a hug. Dean had gotten up to his feet and picked up the gun from the ground. Dirt and a bit of the Doctor's blood drenched his unzipped jacket and jeans. Sluggishly advancing forward to the unaware alien, he prepared another shot. He aimed the gun toward the Doctor's back, guessing where his other heart would be at, and muttered, "I'm sorry, Doctor."

One.

Gasp.

Wince.

"Dean."

Two.

Nothing.

He closed his eyes when he did it. He wanted to not witness it. He didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see him strike down the last Time Lord.

It took him a few minutes to open his eyes. Though, when he did, he wasn't look at the Doctor. He was looking at the sky. The afternoon sky. A multitude of colors. Orange, pink, purple. Spots of blue. The sky was being kissed with stars. Evening was going to set in. He lowered his gaze to the body in front of him. It didn't do him justice. Seeing the Doctor in a pool of his own blood.

Dean dug into his pocket and retrieved a lighter. Kneeling down, he heaved out a shaky sigh. He saw his face. The Doctor's pained face. His eyes weren't glimmering with delight or child-like excitement; they were empty. Dull. Like looking at dark green dots. Something twisted in Dean's stomach. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but he couldn't prevent it. He had already agreed to be one of Moriarty's lackey and if he didn't kill the Doctor, Moriarty would surely get one of his other assassins to murder _him_. Dean doubled over as the pain in his stomach increased, his face inches away from the Doctor's bloody, limp body. He inhaled sharply, familiarizing himself with the Doctor's scent. Bananas, sweat, and some kind of cheap cologne.

Grimacing, Dean pulled away from the motionless mass. He flicked the lighter and a small flame appeared from it. He was told that Time Lords, once dead, were to be burned. He didn't know he had to set up a pyre. He figured that burning him up in the middle of nowhere would be okay. The thing was, Dean Winchester couldn't stop trembling. The fire the lighter emitted was swaying lazily as he did. "Oh, god. What the hell's wrong with me?" He sighed once again, leaning over to the Doctor's body.

But before he could do any more, he heard the flutter of wings. Turning around, he saw something - no, someone - was behind him. He looked at the figure and the person looked at him back. Dean, violently shaking with some sense of guilt, showed it. His eyes widened with fear and crawled away from the person, his body hugging against the Doctor's lifeless and colder-than-normal body. "D-Don't…" He started, but didn't seem to bother to finish his sentence.

The figure moved closer to Dean, shoving the trembling man with a leg, sending Dean away. Male. Blue eyes. Black hair. Bit of a stubble. Trench coat. It was Castiel. After moving Dean away, the angel kneeled down to stroke at the Doctor's back. He was angry. Actually, no. Goddamn _furious_ as to what Dean had done. Fortunately for his human friend, Castiel didn't show it. His face appeared calm, but now? He just wanted to smash Dean's head with a boulder. And there were plenty of them around. "Dean…"

"Cas, I didn't-I didn't mean to."

"Yes, you did." The answer was shot back immediately. His head turned to dart an icy glare at the hunter. "Give me the lighter." Once Dean had obeyed him and gave the lighter, Castiel tossed the lighter away. Away from where they were. A dim thud echoed when it landed.

With a series of grunts, Castiel had the Doctor's body in his arms. He looked at Dean once last time before speaking, "I wish not to talk to you again, Winchester. Don't pray for me when you are in trouble… when Sam hears about this…" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, Castiel shook his head and in a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Leaving Dean alone.

The hunter still hadn't gotten over as to how he managed to kill the Doctor and didn't get himself killed by Castiel, who now wanted to have no relation with Dean.

He didn't realize the mistakes he made when he had done Moriarty's task.

Not until 2014.

With Lucifer inside of Sam's body.

With a fallen Castiel by his side.

And no Moriarty to 'protect' him.

And no Bobby to advise him.

And no Doctor to help him.

No one to save him.

Not even himself.


End file.
